


Losing My Way

by RushingHeadlong



Series: You Gotta Believe It [2]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Early Queen (Band), Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, one very quick reference to suicidal thoughts, references to Brian's 1974 health problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24130651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RushingHeadlong/pseuds/RushingHeadlong
Summary: Brian is burning himself out trying to stay on top of all of his responsibilities. He knows it’s only a matter of time until something gives, and he knows that something will probably be his thesis - but that doesn’t make his failure any easier to stomach.
Relationships: Brian May & Freddie Mercury
Series: You Gotta Believe It [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621363
Comments: 8
Kudos: 40





	Losing My Way

**Author's Note:**

> A companion fic for “And I Get Afraid”. You don’t necessarily need to read that one first, but it may help to have the additional context. Given the events in Brian's life in 1974, this ended up being a fair bit more angsty than "And I Get Afraid" so please heed the tags on this!
> 
> We’re continuing to play a little fast-and-loose with the timeline here. Brian didn’t give up his thesis until 1974 and since writing “And I Get Afraid” I’ve learned that John got his undergrad degree in 1972 and gave up working on his master’s in 1974. Dates as far as the album releases and tours are generally still accurate though.
> 
> (Title from The Night Comes Down - “And I get afraid of losing my way”.)

_“What does that mean?”_

_“It means he’s thinking of giving up on his thesis.”_

Giving up. 

There’s something ugly about those two words, some finality that Brian instinctively tries to shy away from, as if by dancing around the subject he can somehow make it less real. _Setting it aside_ , he says instead, or, _Taking a bit of a break_ , as if he would ever return to his thesis if he chose Queen now.

Brian still loves the stars and his research as much as he did when he first began his studies, but the truth of the matter is that he’s _tired_. Between the thesis and the band and working an actual job to pay the bills, Brian feels like he’s been running on fumes for months now. There are days when he doesn’t quite feel like a person, let alone anything approaching a functioning one, just a collection of static thoughts trapped in a body that’s running on autopilot, a machine that doesn’t know that it’s time to shut down. 

There was stress, in the beginning, when Brian first realized that he was burning out, but it faded as the exhaustion set in and now the only thing Brian has left is his shame and guilt. It was born in his advisor’s office, when he had bluntly told Brian to focus on his thesis or stop wasting both of their time, and it grew every time Brian couldn’t stop one of his responsibilities from slipping through the cracks despite his efforts to stay afloat. Now it sits heavy on Brian’s chest, weighing him down until he feels stuck in place, and turning his thoughts back to that familiar darkness that’s haunted him his entire life. 

He’s put _so much_ time into his thesis already that it feels impossible to be standing here, on the verge of admitting that he’s failed, he’s not good enough, _he_ _can’t do it_ \- but it feels even more impossible to give up Queen. The band doesn’t come with a guarantee of financial security, or long-term stability, or any of the things that his father tells him that he should aspire to have… but the band comes with the only things that are still keeping Brian going these days. 

His friends. Their music. The moments of fleeting joy when he can create things and be a part of something more than himself, _better_ than himself, instead of the waste of time and space that he feels like most days. Instead of the disappointing son that he’s grown into despite his father’s sacrifices and wishes for him. 

“One show, that’s all I’m asking for, a single show in the next week or two just to keep our name out there, and then I’m fine waiting until summer!” Roger is saying to Freddie, after John leaves for class and as Brian slowly packs away his Red Lady with fumbling hands that don’t seem to want to cooperate with him. “You don’t even have to handle the booking, I’ll do it myself!”

Confidence in Queen comes easy to Roger, and to Freddie as well, but it does not come easy to Brian. Brian has to work to stay optimistic, has to fight for every scrap of faith that things will work out for them - because he only has faith in _them_. Not in himself, not anymore. 

Maybe that’s the real reason he’s choosing Queen. Not because it’s the right choice to make, but because despite the struggles it’s still far easier to sink what little energy he has left into the band when Queen has three other people fighting to keep her afloat, instead of into his thesis where Brian has to rely on himself alone to carve out every inch of progress that he can. But there’s still a cold voice in the back of Brian’s mind that tells him that he’s taking the easy way out, that he’s being foolish, that he’s almost 26 now and shouldn’t he be setting aside these childish dreams already?

It’s a voice that has sent Brian down into more than one panicked spiral, late at night when he’s too anxious to sleep but too tired to keep working, when his thoughts race with a thousand directions, full of calculations of how much time he’s sunk into his thesis, into the band, into everything he’s already failed at and everything he could still fail at if he’s not careful. And it’s a voice that only gets colder every time Brian gives more consideration to the possibility of giving up on his thesis-

Not giving up. 

Setting aside. Taking a break. 

Freddie, unphased by Roger’s enthusiasm and unaware of the way that Brian’s heart has started to race uncomfortably in his chest, just snorts in amusement and slings an arm around Roger’s shoulders. “We’ll figure something out, Rog, don’t worry, but apart from John’s upcoming exams, we don’t even know what everyone’s schedules are like yet.”

“By everyone you mean Brian,” Roger says, and he twists around and calls back to Brian, “Hey! What’s your schedule like for the next few weeks?”

Brian’s ears are ringing, loud enough to drown out the sound of Freddie’s laughter and whatever chiding response he gives to Roger, and Brian can feel his face grow hot with embarrassment. “Busy,” he mumbles as he closes the latches on his guitar case, praying that his friends don’t notice the way his hands are shaking. 

“Busy? That’s all you can give us?” Roger teases. “We’re trying to plan our rockstar career here, and all you can say is that you’re _busy_?”

Roger is joking, Brian knows that he is, but they’re words that hit their mark a little too well, sting a little more than they should. Brian said that he’d take the summer to fully commit to either his thesis or with Queen, but in the meantime he’s doing both a disservice. He’s holding the band back and wasting his advisor’s time, and half-assing everything that lands on his plate because he’s stretched too thin and scared of letting go of the things he knows that he can’t do. He keeps thinking that, maybe, if he tries a bit harder, works a bit longer, puts in a few more hours, he can somehow make it _all_ work without having to let anyone down - but that hasn’t worked out for him so far.

“Give him a break, Roger, you know he’s juggling more than the rest of us combined,” Freddie says. “Speaking of which, you really should come out with us tonight, Brian dear. Rog and I are getting drinks, and you deserve a night off more than we do!”

Does he? Brian is fairly certain that he hasn’t done anything to justify slacking off, no matter how nice a night out with his friends sounds right now. He’s drowning in half-finished projects and broken promises, and as he starts to shake his head he can see Freddie’s smile dim in disappointment - and Brian’s stomach sinks, because no matter what he does he always seems to be letting someone down. 

“Please, Brimi?” Freddie asks, a little softer. “It’s been ages since you’ve gone out with us.”

Brian’s breath hitches as the force of Freddie’s pleading hits him and he finds himself stammering, “I- I have to drop off my guitar…”

It’s not a _no_ , but it’s not really a _yes_ either - but that doesn’t stop Roger from giving a loud, celebratory _whoop_ and Freddie from beaming at him and saying, “Not a problem, darling, we’ll walk with you back to your place and then hit the pub from there!”

“I… Well I mean...” Brian tries to backpedal as Freddie and Roger start shepherding him out of their practice studio and into the too-bright afternoon sun. He doesn’t want to disappoint them, can’t stomach the thought of ruining their excitement now, but the voice in the back of his mind is reminding him of his thesis and the work he was supposed to get done tonight, and he has to hold himself rigid to stop his entire body from shaking with anxiety. 

“You two go ahead, I’m gonna smoke and then I’ll meet you at the pub,” Roger says as he pulls out his cigarettes.

“Whoever gets there first grabs the first round?” Freddie suggests, and Roger shrugs in agreement before ducking around the corner of the building. 

“Well then, we’ll just have to take our time getting there, won’t we?” Freddie says, winking at Brian, and he starts walking off down the street. It takes Brian a moment to remember how his legs work and he stumbles over his feet, causing his guitar case to bang against his leg, as he hurries to catches up.

“I don’t know why Roger’s so concerned about booking a show right now,” Freddie says as they walk, and Brian’s stomach sinks as he realizes that he’s going to be trapped in a conversation about the one thing he doesn’t want to keep thinking about. “I mean, once our album is released we’ll be right back in the spotlight! And with John now graduating we can do a proper tour this fall - well, assuming you decide give up your thesis, that is.”

“Set aside,” Brian mumbles, and it takes far too much effort to force out even those two words. His tongue feels like a useless weight and he thinks his throat is closing up, until he swallows and feels that it isn’t. 

If Freddie hears Brian’s correction he doesn’t acknowledge it. “And we nearly have enough new material for a second album, which the studio has already promised to let us record once they find a label willing to release our work. That’ll be more than enough to keep us busy for a while, I should think.”

 _Busy._ Freddie says that like it’s a good thing, and Brian can see how it would be but… god, he’s so _tired_ and the thought of giving up ( _setting aside_ ) his thesis only to have more obligations piled on his plate makes his chest tight with anxiety. He takes a deep breath, just to remind himself that he still can, and realizes with a start that they’ve somehow already arrived at Brian’s flat without him noticing. 

Keys. That’s the next step here, but Brian drops them as he pulls them out of his pocket. He stares at them on the ground for a moment and Freddie leans down to pick them up before Brian can get his body cooperating with him again. 

“Tired, dear?” Freddie says lightly, teasingly, but the joke falls flat when he opens the door and takes a step inside. “Oh…”

Brian knows what it looks like. Papers and textbooks are scattered everywhere, half-empty cups of tea abandoned across the room, dirty clothes trailing out of his bedroom because his laundry hamper is full but he hasn’t had time to wash anything recently. Something smells vaguely _off_ and Brian doesn’t know if it’s the trash or just the general grime that’s built up around Brian’s life when he was too busy to keep on top of things. The only thing he’s sure about is that it’s not a forgotten plate of food that’s gone bad, because Brian can’t actually remember the last time he ate something at home instead of forcing down something between errands and obligations.

Freddie, carefully, picks his way over to the small table shoved in the corner where Brian spends most of his free hours. It too is covered in papers filled with indecipherable notes, song lyrics that trail off into equations, half-formed paragraphs for his thesis morphing into chord progressions, a chaos of ideas exploding off the page with no rhyme or reason to any of it. Brian knows that, realistically, very little of that is actually usable but he still hesitates to throw any of it away, just in case one of those scraps contains some important answer that he can use as a lifeline to pull himself out of this mess.

Freddie brushes his fingers along the top of the mess of papers, and glances up at Brian. His face is carefully neutral but he can’t hide the worry in his voice as he asks, “Brian, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Brian says, or at least that’s what he wants to say. He gets the first syllable out but the _fine_ gets caught in his throat, and he tries to take a deep breath to try again but all he manages is a hitching gasp and there’s not enough oxygen in his lungs anymore and he can’t breathe, god, _he can’t breathe-_

His guitar case hits the floor with a low _thud_ that Brian barely hears over the blood pounding in his ears and his own desperate, ragged breaths as he tries desperately to pull enough air into his body. He’s had panic attacks before but never as bad as this - or maybe this one just seems worse because Freddie is there, bearing witness to Brian’s breakdown with wide, worried eyes. 

Brian is shaking and spots are dancing in front of his eyes and his heart is racing in his chest and no matter how much he gasps he’s not getting enough air. He’s dizzy and disoriented and he feels like he’s going to _die_ , he’s going to die in his shitty flat in front of one of his best friends because he’s a failure and a disappointment and can’t do anything right, not even something as simple as calming himself down because try as he might he can’t stop this. He can’t stop the waves of panic, he can’t stop gasping and choking on every breath, he can’t bring himself back under control now the dam has been broken.

And then Freddie is there, gently gripping Brian’s arms and leading him over to the couch and Brian collapses into, bringing Freddie down with him because at some point - he doesn’t remember how or when - he grabbed a fistful of Freddie’s shirt and he doesn’t know how to make himself let go now. 

Freddie is talking to him in a low, soft voice but Brian can’t make out what he’s saying - or at least, his panic-struck brain doesn’t want to make sense of the words. He can feel Freddie’s chest rising and falling underneath his hand, though, and at first he just focuses on that to keep him grounded when it feels like he’s losing sense of his entire body. It’s only after what feels like a small eternity that he realizes that he’s unconsciously matched his breathing to Freddie’s, and that the tightness in his chest has started to disappear. 

It takes longer for the dizziness to fade and the shaking to stop and for Brian’s breathing to even out completely. Freddie stops talking at some point but he doesn’t leave. He keeps rubbing gently along Brian’s arms, grounding him with his presence, until Brian thinks his voice has returned enough to try talking again. 

“S-sorry,” he stammers, and there’s more he wants to say, more that he tries to say, but all that keeps coming out is, “Sorry. Sorry-”

“Hush, Brian, you have absolutely nothing to apologize for,” Freddie says firmly. He reaches towards Brian and gently swipes at his cheeks and - oh. Brian must have been crying. He didn’t notice that. “You should drink something. I’ll get you a glass of water,” Freddie says. 

Brian nods. “Please,” he manages to say. It takes him a moment to realize that this means he has to let go of Freddie, and another moment to get his hand to cooperate enough that he can release Freddie’s shirt. 

Freddie leaves the room, and returns with the promised glass of water what seems like only seconds later - though time seems to be moving strangely for Brian, and he has no idea how long Freddie was actually gone. He takes a small sip of the water, grateful for the way it soothes his throat and grateful for Freddie’s steady presence at his side, even if the cold voice in the back of his mind tells him that he should be ashamed at falling apart in front of his friend. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Freddie asks softly, after what Brian thinks is several minutes- but could be seconds or hours of silence between the friends, for all he knows. 

Brian thinks about that for a moment before nodding. He _does_ want to talk about it, but it’s a struggle to find the words - or any words at all, for that matter. All he knows is that he should start at the beginning but where does this mess even start? When Brian first realized he was burning out? With that conversation with his advisor? Or earlier than even that, when Brian stubbornly stuck with Smile - and later Queen - despite his father’s warnings to drop the band? 

Does it go back further to his very childhood, to when he was a young child already torn between looking up at the stars and down at the guitar in his hands, already pressured to do more, _be_ more, to make his father proud, but not yet knowing how herculean of a task that would be?

“My thesis,” Brian says at last, and Freddie gives him the space he needs to form the rest of that thought. “I have to gi- _set aside_ my thesis.”

“You said that was a possibility earlier, yes. But…” Freddie cocks his head and studies Brian for a moment as he chooses his next words with care. “Well, darling, isn’t that a good thing? A sign that the band is going places? Isn’t that what we always wanted?”

“No,” Brian says immediately, but that’s wrong and he quickly backtracks, “Yes! I mean, it is, but I have to- have to make it official now. Tell people that I’m stopping. My advisor. My- my parents. My _dad_ …”

Brian’s voice cracks a little on that last word and Freddie’s face softens in understanding. “Oh, Brian…”

Brian doesn’t talk much about his family, but he’s certainly vented to his friends about his father’s expectations for him once or twice before, enough that Freddie knows the implications of what Brian is saying - but now that Brian has found his voice again he finds that he can’t _stop_ talking, can’t stop explaining even though he knows that it’s not necessary. “All he wanted was for me to make something of myself. To have a stable life, to be able to provide for a family, and now I’m- I’m throwing that all away! All his hard work, everything his sacrificed to give me this opportunity, and I’m just going to give it all up!”

“You don’t have to,” Freddie cuts in gently. “You can still finish your thesis, Brian. We’ll wait for you, as long as you need-”

“ _I can’t_ ,” Brian interrupts, louder, faster, unable to stay calm or rational now that he’s started pouring out everything he’s been holding inside for so long now. “I can’t keep working on the thesis and holding down my job and playing with the band. It’s- it’s too much, and I’ve tried to make it work, _god_ , I’ve tried so, so hard to make it all work but I can’t do it, I can’t-”

Freddie takes the glass of water away from Brian and then grabs his hands, and says, “Brian, darling, please, you need to calm down or you’ll get yourself worked up again. Just take a few breaths for me, can you do that?”

Brian tries, and the first inhale is shallow and a little too fast and he almost panics again. Freddie squeezes his hands and rubs his thumbs along the backs of them, and Brian tries a second breath and that one comes a little easier, and slowly Brian starts to calm down again. 

Freddie doesn’t push him to keep talking but Brian wants to, _needs_ to, and after a few moments, when he thinks he’s ready to try again, Brian says, “I’m- I’m _tired_ , Fred. I need to take something off my plate and it can’t be the band, because that’s about the only thing-” 

He cuts off before he can say the first words that come to mind: _stopping me from killing myself_. Because he would never - or at least, he doesn’t think he would ever - and he doesn’t need to add that to the worry that he knows Freddie is already feeling for him. “Queen is one of the few things that makes me happy, these days. It may be stupid, but I can’t give that up.”

“It’s not stupid, darling,” Freddie says without hesitating. “You have to hold tight to the things that bring you joy.”

“That’s not what my dad would say.”

Freddie bites his lip and, for a moment, Brian thinks he isn’t going to say anything at all. But Freddie has never been one to stay silent when his friends are hurting, and after a few seconds he carefully says, “I’ve never met your dad. I only know the things you’ve told us about him. But he helped you build your guitar, didn’t he? That has to count for something.”

“I don’t think it does,” Brian says. It’s the truth that he’s known for a while now, the source of every bickering argument they’ve had the last few times he’s gone home, but now that Brian has admitted it aloud he’s almost surprised by how much it hurts to really accept that.

“I think…” Freddie says slowly, “that even when our parents don’t understand our choices, they just want us to be happy. Maybe your dad thinks you can only find happiness with a proper job and a steady paycheck but that’s not true. And I think you know that that’s not true.”

Brian looks away from Freddie and down at his hands, which Freddie is still holding. “I wouldn’t be thinking of setting aside my thesis if I didn’t know that was true,” he mutters, and Freddie chuckles a little at that. 

“Fair enough,” Freddie concedes. “But, Brian, darling… you can’t spend your entire life trying to please other people. At some point you have to start living for yourself, and if staying with Queen is what makes you happy then I think your dad will understand that, in time.”

Brian isn’t sure of that but he’s not particularly keen on having Freddie keep trying to convince him of this point tonight. He knows what inevitable end he’s quickly approaching, and he doesn’t want to spend more time considering what the fall out from setting aside his thesis will be.

“Yeah, I guess,” Brian mumbles instead, and before Freddie can try to force the issue Brian clears his throat and adds, “Well. I suppose we should get going to meet up with Roger, shouldn’t we?”

Freddie sighs, like he knows that Brian is trying to change the subject - though, granted, his attempt was rather blunt and hard to miss. “We don’t have to go out if you’re not feeling up to it, dear.”

Brian would be embarrassed about Freddie offering to cancel their plans like that, if he had enough energy to be anything except _tired_. He looks up and around at his apartment - at the mess and the grime and the evidence of the breakdown that started far before it peaked this afternoon - and after a moment he admits, “I don’t think I want to stay here right now.”

“Alright,” Freddie says easily. “We’ll go meet up with Roger then. You can spend the night at ours too, if you want.”

“Alright,” Brian echoes. He still feels tired but his chest doesn’t ache, and when Freddie pulls him to his feet he doesn’t feel as dizzy as he was expecting. He takes one last look at the disaster covering every inch of his living space, at the piles of work and obligations that he should be taking care of - and then he walks outside with Freddie, and leaves it all behind. 

_Fifteen months later..._

“...so we’re thinking of making a bit of a medley out of the three songs. It sounds quite lovely so far, but I think you need to give it a listen before we really commit to this plan. I’ll see about bringing a tape in and… Brian?”

“Hm? Sorry, sorry…” Brian shakes his head and brings his attention back to Freddie, who’s sitting in the chair next to Brian’s hospital bed. Roger and John had stopped by in the morning before going into the studio to work out some rhythm section but Freddie was the only one keeping Brian company now, even though he probably has better things to be doing. 

_Stop that_ , he tells himself as soon as he thinks that thought. Freddie, Roger, and John have all reassured him time and time again that they aren’t replacing him in the band, and Brian has to believe that - if only because he doesn’t want to know what the stress of worrying about that will do to his invalid body.

“Nothing to apologize for, darling,” Freddie assures him. “Are you tired? I can leave if you want…”

“No! No, please stay,” Brian tells him. “God knows I don’t have any visitors except you three.”

Freddie’s easy smile fades slightly, and Brian already knows what he’s going to say a split-second before Freddie asks, “Have you heard from…?”

“My mum called and we talked for awhile, yeah.”

“And your dad?”

Brian gives a half-hearted shrug and looks down at his hands. His nails are bitten short and his cuticles are in tatters, and he thinks about asking Freddie to bring white nail polish with him next time as he says, “No. But my mum’s probably filled him in and it’s not like either of them have the time to come down, especially now that I’m on the mend.” 

They didn’t come down to London during his bout of hepatitis either, but Brian wasn’t allowed visitors in the hospital then and afterwards he dove straight back into recording. And, maybe, they could have come down when he went into surgery for the ulcer but it had all happened so quickly that by the time someone had thought to contact them he was already out of the operating room and arguably through the worst of it. 

There’s a lot of _maybe_ ’s in Brian’s relationship with his parents these days, but there’s one thing that he knows for sure: His father still has no interest in speaking to him. 

And Brian doesn’t have much interest in reaching out to his father either. 

“Do you think he’ll come around soon?” Freddie asks softly. 

Brian looks up at him again, somewhat surprised by the question. He had expected the singer to lash out about Brian’s father or else launch into some reassurance that this will blow over soon enough, like he had every time this had come up in the past. Instead he seems thoughtful, almost withdrawn, in a way that sets off alarm bells in the back of Brian’s mind. 

“No,” Brian says. It’s the truth, but one that he wishes he didn’t have to confess to his friend.

Freddie spent most of the previous summer reassuring Brian over and over again that his father would eventually understand. He helped Brian carve out some free time in his schedule again and helped him through the moments when Brian’s stress and fear still overwhelmed him anyway… but part of Brian always knew that this is where his relationship with his father would end up. It was inevitable, no matter how much he may have hoped otherwise - and no matter what Freddie clearly believed at the time. 

Freddie nods like he was expecting that answer. Brian wonders if Freddie is also thinking of those conversations that they had last summer, and all the reassurances he had given Brian that ended up being empty platitudes, and he has his answer when Freddie says, “I feel like I should be apologizing to you, even though I know that’s ridiculous.”

“It is ridiculous,” Brian agrees. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Fred.”

“I know that, darling,” Freddie says quickly. “And I’m not really sorry anyway, because I’m glad that you chose to stick with Queen and I’ve meant it every time I’ve told you that we need you in the band - that we _want_ you with us, no matter what happens. Maybe that makes me selfish, I don’t really know.”

He gives a dismissive wave of his hand and Brian smiles at the gesture, despite the seriousness of the conversation. “If it’s selfish, it’s a good sort of selfishness I think,” Brian tells him. 

“If you say so,” Freddie says, but he doesn’t quite sound convinced.

Brian sighs and tries to sit up a bit more so he can have this conversation properly - but he moves too quickly and puts too much stress on his still-healing surgical scar. He groans and collapses back against his pillows and Freddie immediately jumps to his feet in alarm.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Brian assures him, though his scar still aches with residual pain. “Just moved a bit wrong, that’s all.”

“No, you’re not!” Freddie snaps, and the sudden anger catches Brian by surprise. “You’re in the hospital for the second time this year, for god’s sake! You got sick on tour, you’ve now had _surgery_ because the stress of Queen made everything worse and your family isn’t here with you and-”

Freddie collapses back down on the chair, burying his face in his hands, and his next words come out softer and slightly muffled. “I spent all of last summer reassuring you that things would work out fine once the band got off the ground and they _haven’t_ been fine. Not for you, at least.”

The guilt in Freddie’s voice is a shock to hear and Brian’s instinct is to respond with the first words of comfort that come to mind, no matter what they might be - but after everything Freddie has done for him over the last few months, he deserves better than that. Brian takes a moment to really consider what he needs Freddie to hear, before he finally says, “I always knew I’d end up here, though.”

Freddie looks up at Brian in confusion and disbelief. “You knew you’d end up in the hospital?” he asks skeptically.

Brian laughs and does his best to hide his wince when his scar throbs with pain again. “Well, no, that part was a bit of a surprise,” he admits. “But the doctors said that the ulcer was a ticking time bomb, so that at least was always going to be a problem even if I didn’t know about it before. But nothing that happened with my dad was much of a surprise.”

“Why didn’t you say something, then?” Freddie asks. 

“Because I didn’t want to think about it,” Brian says. “If I thought about it too much I’d let it influence my decisions, and you were right when you said that I needed to do what made me the most happy. And Queen makes me happy. You and Roger and John, you all make me happy - more than fighting for recognition in academia ever would have.”

“But your dad-”

“Doesn’t have to live my life,” Brian interrupts. “Freddie, I’m not going to lie to you. I still want his approval, of course I do. But I’m done sacrificing my dreams for him. And if that means that we aren’t speaking for a little while…” Brian shrugs, and swallows down a lump in his throat. “Then that’s how it has to be, I suppose.”

There’s a beat of silence from Freddie before he admits, “I wish, for your sake, that it didn’t have to be like that, though.”

“I mean, I wish that too,” Brian says with a careful huff of laughter. “But it’s not your responsibility to make things perfect for me. Whether my dad comes around or not, well, that’s his choice. And Queen is mine.”

Freddie smiles a little crookedly at Brian, and Brian is relieved to see that the misplaced guilt is gone from his eyes. “You know, you really are amazing, Brian May.”

Brian shakes his head. “I’m really not. I’m just…”

He’s in pain, and he’s afraid that he’ll never get better and he’ll always be sick and in pain. He’s worried for the future of Queen with their tour plans for September cancelled and he feels guilty that he can’t help with the new album like he should. He’s angry at his dad, and scared that he’ll always be angry, and scared that his dad will never accept Brian’s choices no matter what he does. And he’s _stressed_ , about his health and his dad and the band, until it feels almost as overwhelming as it did a year ago and he almost feels that panic starting to building in his chest again. 

He’s not amazing. He’s just human, fragile and flawed and moving forward despite it all anyway.

“I’m just trying my best,” Brian says at last. 

Freddie’s grin brightens, just a little bit, as he says, “Aren’t we all, darling?”

They all are, that’s certainly true - but it’s a truth that Brian couldn’t see a year ago, when his best didn’t feel like nearly enough, when his anxiety and stress and shame only let him see his perceived failures and not the achievements he managed to gain. It’s a truth that he’s only been able to see with the clarity that comes from rejection and loss, from losing a dad but gaining a family in Queen - and it’s a truth that only strengthens Brian’s convictions that, despite everything, he has made the right choices in his life. 

“Yeah,” Brian agrees softly. “I suppose we are.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this one took so long to finish - I had a much harder time writing it for some reason and I’m still not entirely pleased with the final result. 
> 
> I have at least one more fic planned in this mini-series focusing on Roger and Freddie during this same time period, though I don't know when that will be posted.


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